


Allow Me

by DaniGetYourGun (SharkbaitHooHaHa)



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Drabble, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-07-29 16:06:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20084974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SharkbaitHooHaHa/pseuds/DaniGetYourGun
Summary: Heaven orders Aziraphale to kill a human.Crowley is there to pick up the pieces.





	Allow Me

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This was based on a Tumblr request! Find me [here](http://www.acuteangleaziraphale.tumblr.com) if you'd like to make a request as well!

Even among the lowest denizens of Hell, word traveled fast. Demons had an inclination to gossip in much the same way ducks had an inclination to swim.

Heaven, it seemed, had ordered a hit.

And Crowley only had too good of a guess to whom the task of felling the heavenly sword of justice would fall to.

He didn’t even remember making a conscious choice to drive to the bookshop, but the next thing he knew he was pulling up to the curb and jumping out with barely a backwards glance to lock the Bentley.

Entering the shop, though, he stopped. He had expected to find Aziraphale mourning. Sobbing. _Something_.

He hadn’t expected to find Aziraphale puttering around his tiny kitchen.

“Oh, Crowley, dear, perfect timing! I was just making some tea. Would you like a cup?”

“Angel…”

Though Aziraphale was acting normal, it was clear that the situation was anything but. For one, he wouldn’t meet Crowley’s gaze. For two, his clothes, usually so meticulously cared for, were tainted by splashes of crimson.

“Angel…” Crowley tried again. “Look at me.”

That was all it took. All the nervous energy that had been keeping the angel moving left him all at once, and he stood stock still with his back to Crowley and shoulders tense.

A part of Crowley _ached_ and he wished he knew the right thing to say.

“Does it hurt?” the angel asked softly. “Falling, I mean?”

“Wha…?” The conversation had gotten away from him before it even began, it seemed. “Angel, you’re not going to _fall_.”

Aziraphale still did not look at him. Suddenly, he swept his arm across the counter, sending his teapot and various other dishes sailing to the floor, where they shattered.

“I…” Crowley couldn’t see his face, but he could hear his rage. “I am a _Pricipality_ of _Heaven_. I fought in the Holiest of Wars to cast the Fallen from our midst, I struck down against the wicked with sound judgement and righteous fury, I was celebrated for my prowess with a blade, and I…” As suddenly as it had come, whatever wrath he had held had left him again. He finally turned to Crowley, tears streaming down his cheeks and looking so small and so lost that Crowley could actually feel something within him break.

His voice, when he finally found it again, was barely a whisper. “I could not kill a human. Not even one as wicked as that.” Crowley rushed forward to catch the angel as he collapsed to his knees, body shaking with sobs. “I… I couldn’t finish it.”

“…Of course not…” Crowley said softly, brushing aside Aziraphalexs curls and holding him while he wept.

The blade that Aziraphale had used sat uselessly on the floor, a little bit away from the both of them. Crowley eyed it.

It was a familiar path. One he had already walked. He knew exactly where it led. Would Aziraphale face that plummet and view it as vaguely sauntering downward?

No. Probably not.

“No, of course you couldn’t,” he murmured. “You’re the nice one.”

He wrapped his hand around the hilt of the blade. It was heavy in his hand, but a small weight compared to the one of the angel in his arms.

“You’re an _angel_. This shouldn’t be your burden to bear.”

He stood, sword in hand.

_Allow me_.

And he was gone.


End file.
